Gone Daddy Gone
by Pen Against Sword
Summary: Tifa's lost it: the spark. Yuffie insists the best way to reignite the guttering flame of her relationship with Cloud is via a "sexy" hobby. And nothing could be sexier than the traditional del Sol tango.
1. Chapter 1

**Gone Daddy Gone**

_for MintBanana_

_Merry Christmas, dear. Hope this brightens your day a little._

_Note: Never fear, readers. I live. This story will be complete in three parts and was done as a gift for MintBanana, on the Genesis Awards Gift Exchange._

**PART I**

The blonde, blue-eyed angel at the bar winked at Tifa as he took his drink. She watched his hips swing as he sauntered over to the jukebox and started clicking through the selection. His jaunty foot-tapping swung his buttocks in quite the provocative manner, and Tifa found herself caught up in staring.

Suddenly realizing her actions, she shook herself. _Cloud_, she thought. _Cloud is my...boyfriend. I think. _

She had been having this problem a lot lately.

"Tifa... you okay? You look a little... spacey."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

Yuffie stared at her, eyes unusually shrewd. "Well, uh." And for once in her life, Yuffie was, thankfully, subtle. Because if anyone had heard her next statement, Tifa might have clawed through the floorboards and dug herself an early grave right then. "You're starin' at that guy's ass, Teef. I mean," she said, at seeing Tifa's twisted mouth and wide eyes, "I'm not one to judge." She held up her hands, placating. "I just... I just noticed, is all!"

Tifa blushed, mortification infusing her. "Oh, Yuffie, can we... can we please just not talk about this?"

Yuffie's dark eyes darted from side to side, making sure no one sat in range of hearing. Thanks to her sharp elbows and pinching fingers on previous visit to Seventh Heaven, the most regular male patrons of the bar tended to stay far away from her.

"Look, Tifa, I'm not one to pry – "

"Yuffie."

"Okay, okay, I _am_. You got me. Red-handed. Fingers in the cookie jar. With my pants dow – "

"_Yuffie_."

"Well, what I mean is. Tifa... you've kinda... been doing that a lot... lately."

"Doing... what?" Tifa's wine-dark eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"You've been looking at other men a lot." Yuffie stared, eyes big and inquisitive, guileless. If it seemed interesting, Yuffie would not hesitate to ask.

Tifa looked away, chewing her bottom lip. So someone _had_ noticed.

"Is something going on with you and Cloud?"

"No..." She _really_ did not want to talk about this. Really.

"Okay..." Yuffie said, not entirely convinced. Tifa could see the glimmer in her friend's eyes. This would not the be last she heard of this conversation.

And true to form, Yuffie pursued it. The next weekend, Tifa found herself washing dishes after closing on a busy Saturday night, trapped in work while Yuffie verbally barraged her with questions.

"So... what is it, Teef? Is it that you've realized you're madly in love with my hot bod? I understand. All those sweaty battles, covered in grime and the sheen of battle. You must've realized sometime after Meteor, when I grew into my new, womanly curves and – "

"Yuffie, you have the curves of a one-way street."

"Heeeeey... it's a little better than that!"

"Fine. A twig."

"There we go."

A beat. Tifa scrubbed the mug in her hand hard, doing her level best to avoid Yuffie's gaze. "Could you, maybe, help me out and clean the bar with me if you're going to hang around after closing?"

"Sure thing."

Three second, awkward silence. Then Yuffie's voice broke in like a jagged piece of glass. "So that's it, right? You've realized your lesbian feelings for me?"

"As alluring as you are, as irresistible as I find your scabby knees and bad fashion sense – "

"Says the woman wearing leather head-to-toe. In a bar."

Tifa plowed onward, ignoring her. " – no, I have not realized my lesbian love for you."

"Darn. And here I thought I would finally get into your pants. Um. Skirt."

Tifa hummed a merry tune, resolving to ignore Yuffie.

"Eh, it was a dumb stab in the dark anyway. You were staring at that hot blonde dude. I just thought maybe you were bi."

She cranked the volume on her humming.

"That's okay. I'm not interested in you anyway. Your tits're too big. They'd get in the way of everything. You're out of luck, too."

Tifa thought briefly about stuffing the cleaning rag into her ears, germs and all.

"Out of luck, I mean, 'cause Reno asked me on a date. And I'm into penis anyway."

She locked eyes with Yuffie, finally. "Reno asked you on a date!" she exclaimed, startled.

Yuffie nodded, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "Mmhmm. I asked him if the carpet matched the drapes. He told me the carpet got burned off in an explosion a long time ago."

"I... well. That sounds... delightful. You two will be very happy together, I'm sure," she said, trying not to explode with laughter.

Here Yuffie was, getting dates with ex-Turks, and Tifa couldn't even figure out her own relationship issues.

"Yeah, then he asked me if I wanted to see the scars, and I told him if he didn't shut up, I'd put his EMR where the sun don't shine and press the big red button, and he asked if that was a promise."

"And that means... you're going on a date?"

"Heck yeah it does. To the movies. We're gonna watch something with lots of explosions and tits so I can smack him when he makes gross comments."

Tifa tried not to envision their very-likely wedding in the near future. She could see it now. Little kids with Yuffie's maniacal grin, running around with hair like dead foxes glued onto their heads. The world would never be the same.

"Tifa, why do you look like you're about to throw up and cry at the same time?"

"What?" Yuffie stared suspiciously at her, and Tifa blinked, the picture of innocence. "Oh, no reason. I think my spaghetti's coming back on me is all."

"Mmhmm," and this time, Yuffie's eyes narrowed. "Tifa, cut the crap."

Tifa's dark head snapped up from her current fixation on her finger nails.

"Look, I know there's something wrong. You've been acting weird for, like, a month now. Maybe more since I wasn't here before that."

Tifa sighed. Despite Yuffie's attempts to look constantly silly, she actually proved herself to be very observant on many occasions. Like now. When Tifa least wanted her to be observant.

"Am I that obvious?"

"No, I just notice stuff. What's going on?"

Tifa swallowed, braced herself. "I think... I'm not... I mean, me and Cloud..."

"Oh, no," Yuffie breathed. "You don't mean..."

Tifa nodded, preparing herself for what she knew Yuffie would say next.

"... that you're a lesbian and you're in love with me?"

"_Yuffie_," she growled.

"But seriously, is the spark gone?"

And there it was. Just like that. Out in the open. Bada-boom, bada-bing. We have a winner.

"I think... I think it might be."

Tifa's gut wrenched just voicing it. She'd been thinking it for weeks. Wondering. Trying to formulate the thought in her mind. And Yuffie had done it in three seconds flat, with no hesitation. Well, your friends are supposed to tell you the truth, she figured. Even if it sucked. Sucked big fat flaming Jenova heads.

"Soooo... what're you gonna do about it?"

"What am I... what am I gonna do about it?"

Yuffie rolled her eyes and leapt onto Tifa's recently-cleaned bar, tracking dust. "Is there an echo in here? That's what I _said_. What. Are. You. Gonna. Do. About it?"

Tifa shoved her roughly off the bar. Yuffie landed on a stool with ease, looking for all the world as if she'd planned it that way. Tifa heard the way her knees banged the counter, though, and winced for her.

"I... I'm not sure. What _can_ I do? I've tried to rekindle the romance, but..."

"But...? Tifa, he's still hot as hell. I mean, look at him, he's smokin'. In yonder days of my youth, I fancied myself quite smitten with fair Cloud." Yuffie hopped back onto the bar, then cocked her head like a cat, perching. "Hmm. Maybe you _are_ a lesbian."

When Tifa's dirty rag hit her face, she gurgled.

"I'm _not_ a lesbian, for the last freakin' time!"

"Okay, okay. But you do have a problem, you must admit."

"Yes, I suppose you're right..."

"Tifa. Your man drives a motorcycle, wears a bunch of leather, and swings around the biggest phallic symbol I've ever seen. I don't _suppose_ you have a problem. I know. Where's the spark? Need a lighter?"

"Something's wrong, Yuffie. He's been distant lately, and he's been saying her name in his sleep, and he hasn't done that for years." Tifa dropped her head into her hands. "We haven't... I mean, he hasn't... it's been months."

"Ouch," Yuffie hissed. She slipped off the bar and came to hug Tifa around the shoulders. "That long, huh? I mean, if you want, I could lend you Reno, but he's horribly scarred and all, and you might barf all over his junk 'cause you're used to Cloud's shining golden perfection of manhood and you know what? Never mind. I feel inadequate now."

To Tifa's horror, tears started dripping from her eyes. Her face scrunched, and she tried to look away from her companion.

"There, there, let it all out. This shirt's machine washable." Yuffie's hand directed Tifa's head forcibly into Yuffie's bony shoulder. It felt... less than comforting, but Tifa appreciated the gesture. Mostly.

"So have you tried talking to him about it?" Yuffie's voice was light, pleasant—forced. The barmaid felt her friend's arms tighten around her as she cried, just a tad. Tifa knew Yuffie herself didn't like to cry, much less see her friends do it.

Her voice viscous with tears, Tifa replied, "Y-yes. He just says nothing's wrong, and that he can't control talking in his sleep. But something _is_ wrong, Yuffie. I can sense it."

"Well, if he ain't gonna talk, I'll tell you what you need to do. You need to get a hobby, Tifa."

"A hobby?"

At Yuffie's smile, Tifa felt a deep, deep sense of dread.

As it turned out, "a hobby" meant "dancing." And "dancing" meant the most sexual sort of wriggling and slithering that Tifa had ever seen in her life.

It was called "tango," and the steamy geniuses in sultry Costa Del Sol had concocted it. Or so her teacher had told her. Tifa watched, mesmerized, as two of the more advanced dancers writhed over each other on the stage. They were sensual and hypnotic, and Tifa wanted, more than anything, to be able to dance like that. The urge struck her suddenly, leaving her breathless.

"All right, everyone," Julian, the teacher called, clapping his hands as the dancers struck a final, delicious pose. Sweat gleamed on their bodies, their chests heaving. Tifa stared, gulping. She wanted to, but she didn't know if she could. "Attention, please! This was a demonstration of the masters of this art. Tango is beautiful and historical, and I will not have you dishonoring my homeland with your clumsy ape feet. We'll start with the basics."

Tifa soon learned that her clumsy ape feet, no matter how deadly and graceful in the arena with Master Zangan, could not get the hang of Costa del Sol's signature dance. Two lessons later, she related this fact to Yuffie.

"What do you mean you have clumsy ape feet?"

"Yuffie, I dance like a Gongaga Frog. I can't keep doing this. Maybe I should take up knitting or something."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like a great idea."

Tifa warmed to it quickly. "I can make scarves for when it gets really cold, for Marlene and for Denzel and for – "

_WHAP!_

Tifa lunged for Yuffie's retreating hand, in the mind to break some fingers in exchange for the ringing in her ears. Yuffie had quite the flat-hand slap.

"What's _wrong_ with you? You have to be sexy! Sexy hobbies, Tifa, rekindle relationships!"

"So you signed me up for _tango_?"

Tifa and Yuffie snapped around to the door when a cheery voice said, "What the heck's a tango and why'd you sign Tifa up for it?"

"Oh, hi, Reeve," Yuffie chirped as Tifa wondered if maybe she could beat herself into a coma with one of these beer mugs. "Tango's Tifa's new sexy hobby."

"Oh, do tell," Reeve laughed, putting his chin in his hand, his grin crooked and warm. Tifa smiled at him, unable to stop herself.

"It's this totally sexy new hobby, and Tifa wants to go and ruin it by, like, knitting and shit. Reeve, tell her that's nasty."

"Tifa, that's nasty. Although, I guess knitting could be sexy. If you, like... knit lingerie."

Yuffie's face twisted into a very odd expression. "That sounds... itchy."

"All right, everyone, grab a partner, grab a partner. Assume the position from last lesson. Face each other, relaxed, torso up."

In a flurry of ruffles and colors, people partnered up. Tifa, however, found herself left standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, and she just barely kept herself from wincing. Last picked, just like dodgeball. Except when they picked her last for dodgeball, she gave them noogies. She couldn't give tango classmates noogies.

"Does everyone have a partner? Good, we can – "

"I don't have a partner, sir," Tifa said, her voice ringing clearly out over the twenty or so heads between her and the instructor. Julian pinned her with large, dark eyes, and cleared his throat.

"Very well. I shall be your partner for this session, Miss..."

"Lockhart. Tifa Lockhart."

"Miss Lockhart, I shall be your partner," he proclaimed, crossing the room to her and assuming the aforementioned position.

He instructed loudly, over her head, as the class listened with intent expressions.

"Men, take your right arm, and wrap it around your partner's back, like so. Don't squeeze her, don't grip too hard, and make sure your hand rests beneath her right shoulder. Ladies, your left arm on his right, in this manner." With a warm hand, the instructor positioned Tifa's arm upon his. "Make sure to keep your postures straight, and stand flush."

She stumbled as he yanked her into his chest, quick and business-like. But he stared down his nose at her, and she couldn't help but meet his eyes, transfixed.

"Remember, communicate with your bodies, people. As you proceed, you are one unit. You are not a man and his partner, or a woman and her partner, you are a single working organism."

His dark voice and his rich, del Sol accent enthralled Tifa as he used her as a human mannequin for his demonstration. How long had it been since a man had inspired such feelings in her? How long had it been since _Cloud_ had inspired such feelings in her? Her gut tingled with the feeling of new interest.

"First, we must refresh you on the basic tango step. The most basic tango step, as you might remember, goes like this."

He pushed forward with his leg, lightly brushing Tifa's to get her to take his lead. "One. Two. Three. Four," he said slowly, moving them in a box formation.

"And now you," he addressed the class. Everyone followed suit. When they seemed to have remastered the step from last Tuesday's lesson, he nodded. "Okay, let us play a game. Who can do this the fastest and still remain graceful?"

In a steadily-increasing tempo, he called, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," getting faster and faster with each repetition. And Tifa, with all the grace of a trained martial artist, fell into the increasing tempo with ease. For some reason, on the simplest, slowest demonstrations, she was bumbling, but up the challenge, and she had it down pat.

The hot skin of her partner felt almost painful against her shoulder. The faster they went, the more aware of his body Tifa became. She grew flushed, her heartbeat increasing until finally, mercifully, he called a halt.

"And... we are done here. Ladies and gentlemen, excuse me for this bit of ego, but I have to say, my partner did the best out of all of you. Though, to be fair, she had me as help," Julian smirked.

Tifa grinned with triumph. Her teacher stared down at her with dark eyes again. She struggled not to shiver.

"Hey, Tifa," Cloud said.

"Yes, Cloud?"

He smelled like the cold, like the outside, and like leather. The faint scent of exhaust emanated from his jacket. His hair looked even more ruffled than usual. Her heart squeezed with the yearning to touch him.

"Where you headed? Need a ride?"

Her eyes closed for a short moment. When had the distance between them begun? How long had it been? A month? Two?

"No, I'm fine."

A pause as she slipped on her gloves and her winter coat.

"You never said where you were going," he said, hesitant.

"Oh? Ah, I'm going out for a bit."

"You went out last Thursday too. I wanted to see if you, maybe, wanted to go with me to grab a bite to eat?"

She blinked, her back to him. A bite... to eat? Who did he think he was? He'd barely touched her for a month, been out at all hours of the day and night on "deliveries," and he suddenly wanted to walk back in like there was no problem?

"Ah, sorry, I have... plans."

A thought occurred to her suddenly – maybe Cloud had found someone else. After years of fleeting touches, inflamed encounters after his weeks on the road, tumbling into bed together. He had even said he loved her. More than once. Maybe... maybe he had found someone else?

Cloud had never been a talker. She knew no amount of prying would bring it out of him.

Well, she wasn't going to have it.

"I'll see you later," she said into the silence. He watched her with fathomless eyes as she strode into the cold.

Tifa did not know, but would find out later, that Cloud had followed her to her lesson, and he had spied from behind the fogging window as Tifa danced with her now-regular partner, the instructor. Julian.

His eyes narrowed, and he ran his bare fingers over the tiny parcel in his pocket.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART II**

Yuffie bumped and bruised her way down the back hallway of Seventh Heaven, her wiry legs wrapped around the rumpled waist of one Reno, ex-Turk. (Ex in name only. They were still Rufus's boys. And girls. They just had to look pretty for the cameras.)

He sucked her earlobe, and she grinned, savage, twisting his ponytail with delight.

A small sound drew their attention, and two heads, both disheveled and obviously interrupted mid-leading-to-coitus, snapped around toward its source.

"Uh," Cloud said.

Reno laughed a low, raspy chuckle, his lips kiss-swollen. Hmmm. When did he start chewing gum? And he hated pina colada flavor. "Oh, hey, Strife. Sorry to, uh, disturb you." He popped a bubble.

"Yeah, sorry, Cloud. Say, do you think we could borrow the spare room?"

"Whatever." Cloud shouldered past them with faint disgust showing on his face. But before he could turn the corner, he swiveled to face them.

Yuffie raised her eyebrows as he stared at her. He had the appearance of someone who wanted t o say something.

"Yes?"

"Yuffie," Cloud began.

"Uh-huuuuuh..."

"Could I... talk to you alone for a minute?"

Yuffie looked from Reno, who quirked a red, cocky eyebrow, to her legs twined around his tilted hips, to the bubble of gum swelling from his chapped lips, then back to Cloud. "Sure, Cloud. Why not."

She hopped off her crumpled, smoke-scented, stubbly beau and leaned in for one last long, deep, tongue-involved kiss. Cloud grimaced. He tried not to grimace more when Yuffie said, "And that's _my_ gum, thanks. You hate pina colada flavor."

"Oh, yeah. I wondered about that."

Yuffie stepped onto the other side of the hall door with Cloud, into the main bar area of Seventh Heaven. "What'cha need? And make it quick, Cloud. I got things to see to." She adjusted her shirt, covering the corner of a bra covered in dancing chocobos, next to which the word "WARK!" cavorted in merry bubble letters.

"Yuffie, do you know why Tifa's taking tango lessons and doesn't want to tell me she's going to them?"

Yuffie's jaw dropped, her gum falling out onto her chest. Cloud wondered how it stuck there in her rather meager cleavage, then stopped wondering when she looked down, eyes crossed, and tried to lick it off her own boobs.

When she had succeeded – _some_how – she redirected her attention to Cloud. "Anyway. Yeah. I know why. Maybe you should, like, touch her once in a while. And stop saying Aeris's name in your sleep all the time. And, like, talk to her about why you've been so weird lately."

This time, Cloud's jaw dropped. Well, when you ask a ninja a question, expect a goddamn answer, Yuffie always said. Or she would've always said it if anyone cared. Which, sadly for her, they didn't. So she said it anyway.

"When you ask a ninja a question, expect a goddamn answer, I always say."

Cloud thought briefly that she did not, in fact, always say that at all, but wisely chose to keep that to himself, since she seemed to know more about Tifa than he did. He wondered if this would come to groveling.

"All right, can we hurry this up? I wanted to spend time cataloging Reno's scars tonight, Cloud, and trust me, that's gonna take a while. A long while. Probably, like, two hours, give or take some tongue."

"She said those things to you?" he asked, feeling a bit angry that apparently Tifa was telling Yuffie her problems and not him. Not that he had been... very forthcoming with her with his problems.

Oh.

_Oh_.

"Yeah, she did. What are you gonna do about it?"

"Uh..."

"I said, what. Are. You. Gonna. Do. About it?"

"I don't... know."

"You might want to figure that out before you give her this, then," she said, holding up something small and dark in the dimness of the closed bar. His eyes widened. He had to give her credit – Yuffie really was a damn fine ninja. "Here, you can have this back."

She pressed it into the palm of his hand, stuck her tongue out at him, and then sashayed back into the hallway.

Reno's voice rang out, "Hey, Princess, I wanna try that gum again. I think I might be in the mood for pina colada flavor."

Cloud shuddered.

Julian smiled, a brilliant flash of white, perfect teeth. "Good evening, class." He brushed a dark curl out of his eyes.

"Good evening, instructor," his students called. Six weeks of three-nights-a-week lessons, and now they all got along swimmingly. Not to mention they could rip up the dance floor.

Tifa shifted in her strappy stilettos. She had never liked high heels before, preferring boots and flats, but for tango, she felt them necessary. It just looked sexier that way.

"I have a very special event for all of you tonight," he announced. "My late night class will be attending the earlier slot so that we might have... a little competition of sorts."

A competition? Tifa frowned, fingering the ruffles top-most on her skirt. Hmmm. This was new.

He strode to the back door, his shiny shoes clicking, and called out into the darkening evening, "Class! Come, come. They're ready for you." He gestured them in.

Thirty or so students streamed in, filling the large dance room almost immediately. But Tifa found her attention riveted on other matters. A man with wild blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a very familiar stare had just walked through the door, and now he stood watching her from his position not ten feet away.

"Now, my plans for this evening, since you have all been working so hard lately," Julian purred. His voice rang low through the room, everyone's attention rapt on him. "We're going to have a tango competition. Participation is, of course, not mandatory, but here are the rules, to spice things up.

"You must choose a partner from the class you've never met. You will have five minutes on the floor to impress me. If you fail, I will call for the next couple. If you do not, I will let you perform to completion. I will play whatever music I choose. I am the sole judge. Now. Let us begin. Choose your partners!" He clapped, loud and startling.

Immediately, Tifa's eyes widened as Cloud moved toward her. An unseen hand parted the crowd between them, and he grabbed her in the typical tango position with ease. Well, ease on his part. For her part, Tifa felt stiff and awkward with surprise. Surprise and... anger?

"What are you doing here?" she huffed, teeth gritted. "And who said I want to be your partner?"

She tried to wiggle out of his grasp and failed. His eyes narrowed as he locked his grip around her.

"You _are_ my partner, Tifa," he said, his expression agitated. "Why did you keep this a secret from me?"

"_Me?_" she gasped, outraged. "I should ask you the same question!"

"You never asked me before," he said. "I would've told you."

"Oh, _would_ you have? Like when you told me why you've been acting so _weird_ – "

"Up, up, next couple up! Tifa, my beauty, you and... Cloud, is it? You are so quiet most days, I sometimes cannot place your name. You are next. Go, go, go, my lovely."

Tifa's mouth felt like sand. She tried to swallow and failed. Cloud smiled slightly, and to her surprise, it seemed predatory.

"What are you doing? Do you even know how to tango?"

"I've been taking this class for three weeks, Tifa."

"Um, _why_?"

"Well, when I found out this was what you were hiding from me, I wanted to know the appeal."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "The appeal was that it was all for me and no one else."

"All for you and Julian, you mean?"

Her mouth fell open, and heat suffused her face. How _dare_ he...!

Before she could retort, however, Julian's voice cut in on them. "You two, you two, do not just stand there and whisper to each other. Begin!" He clapped that piercing clap again, and the beat of a new song began from the player in the corner.

Tifa wanted to spit her reply in his face, spit that he had _no_ right to talk to her that way, no right to fling accusations in her face in light of the way he had acted recently, but she had no chance. No, instead, she found herself sucked into the vortex of the tango with an unfamiliar partner.

She swiveled her hips as Cloud clicked his heels, surprising Tifa at his ease in the dance. Cloud's grace on the battlefield, she supposed, translated to grace on the dance floor. She had just never thought of such a possibility before, but he was already outliving her expectations.

Cloud prowled forward, his blue eyes alight with a sparkle Tifa swore she had seen at least once before. She struggled to place it as she moved backward, away from him, her steps slinky and cat-like. She extended each leg with care, and then the thought struck her – he had looked like this once when they sparred. He'd beaten her thoroughly and managed to give her enough bruises that he had never wanted to spar with her again, much to her disappointment, but she remembered this look in his eye from that one instance.

Tifa spun out from Cloud's arm and struck a short pose, leaning backward. He anchored her by one hand as she did so, then gave a short yank, pulling her back into his body. Her mouth tightened. Of all the times she had tangoed in the past few weeks, she had never protested being the follower in the dance, but now she felt some resentment.

Her feet and his swept across the floor in a give-and-take, her hips swerving this way and then the other. Tifa kicked one leg around his hips and then back behind her as he turned them. His hair really did look ridiculous, she noted, when dancing the tango. He needed it cut. She usually cut it, but they had both been distracted lately.

With an expertise born of fighting, not of six simple weeks of tango, Tifa detected a tensing in his muscles and moved with him as he lifted her in a short hop, she bending her knees up briefly and he giving her enough time to re-extend her legs and touch the ground. She forced all her frustration at him into her dancing, transforming it into fluid, tense movements of each muscle in her body.

They moved with an amazing sensuality, born of years of being together, knowing each other's bodies. Each step twined with the other until they became a whirling flash of colors and skin, spinning around each other like tops. Cloud knelt, and Tifa hooked her left leg over his, straightening her right into the air. Her skirt slid up her thighs, flashing her flesh in a tantalizing show.

Their give-and-take was perfection. Their relationship, however...

The music came to an abrupt close as Cloud pulled her into a pose, he looking up into her face, so close her eyes would cross to focus on him, and she trying to look anywhere but his large blue eyes.

Julian began to congratulate them on their excellent performance, but Tifa's attention snagged on Cloud's hand at his pocket. He rummaged, quickly, surreptitiously, then pulled out a small black box. Her eyes widened, and an indescribable fury rose within her, coupled with a cascade of nausea.

No. _No_. She could not believe he had the _nerve._

"Tifa," he said quietly. "Tifa, I have something to ask you, something I've been meaning to ask you for months."

Her hands shook with the urge to throttle him.

"Tifa?"

She did the only thing she could think to do. She reared back, and she decked him. People around them gasped, but for whatever reason, maybe a sixth sense of this being a personal quarrel, maybe out of respect for Tifa, no one intervened.

He hissed with pain, holding his nose. Blood dripped to the floor. She felt rather than heard the studio go quiet around them, everyone's attention diverted to the center of the room. The speakers around them spewed the notes of the next song.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she turned sharply on her heel and left the studio.

He found her later, when she had been sitting in the bar for a good twenty minutes, alone. She had not bothered to flip on any lights. She had not bothered to pull up a chair. She sat in the middle of the floor, in the dark, eyes down.

When she felt him approach, his footsteps almost a roar in the dead silence, she stiffened.

"What do you _want_ from me, Cloud?"

He opened his mouth and said, "I want _you_, Tifa. That's it."

"That's it? You think it'll be that simple after all this time? You can't be open with me even now. I thought you trusted me, Cloud." She gripped the fabric of her beautiful dress in her fists, the chafe of it almost painful.

He crouched next to her, made a sort of half-movement, a stunted indication of some desire to touch her. She crossed her arms and finally looked him in the eye.

"Convince me that there's _any_ reason I should listen to you."

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "I've been dreaming about her. I've been talking to Aeris."

Her eyes narrowed. "Wonderful. Why should I care?"

"Because I've been talking to her about... how to be better. For you."

"You..." Tifa felt herself soften, just a tad. "You were?"

"She was telling me—she was telling me I should do it."

The softness inside her disappeared. "Oh, so she was _telling_ you to do it! Lovely. You're marrying me because _Aeris_ thinks it's a good idea."

He scowled. "No—no, that's not it at all. I mean, I've—I've wanted to ask you for a long time, Tifa." He seemed so unsure of himself. She'd never seen him this nervous before, his hands fiddling with the creases in his pants, with the tops of his boots, with the edge of his shirt. He reached for her, put his hand on her shoulder. "I've wanted to ask you to marry me for a while now."

"Then... then why didn't you just _say_ so?" Her voice swelled, and she slammed a fist onto the floorboards. "You have to _talk_ to me! You had something on your mind for _months._ You're not right for me if we can't work together!"

He gaped at her, his mouth slightly ajar. "I..."

"I can't do this, Cloud."

Then she ran – out of the studio, and out of Edge.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART III**

"So how's Costa del Sol? I remember last time I was there at this time of year, man there were so many hotties – "

"How are Marlene and Denzel, Yuffie? Is Marlene getting her homework done? Denzel's not getting into fights with those boys at school, is he?"

"They're doing just fine, Tifa, don't you worry your pretty head over it. Yuffie is on the job!"

"Thanks, Yuffie. I don't know how I can thank you, leaving on such short notice – "

"You just relax, enjoy yourself, and think for a bit, 'kay? Everyone needs a vacation once in a while, even super-Tifa."

"Oh, Yuffie..."

"Gotta go, Marlene's got a-hold of some paints and looks like a Sephiroth who just found Jenova. Bye, Tifa!"

_Click_.

Tifa relaxed into the breezy-soft bed in her hotel room. Costa del Sol really did inspire awe at this time of year – and the men_ were_ beautiful, Yuffie had that detail right. But her mind always zipped back to one target when she saw a beautiful man.

She simply could not get Cloud off of her mind.

She decided to go to the bar. It would be nice, for once, to be the one on the other side of the counter.

Costa del Sol had quite the tango scene, Tifa realized as she sat sipping a Sol Sunrise. She had picked this hotel at random and had found herself stumbling upon a bar with a wide open dance floor and many enthusiastic dance participants.

And these people tangoed like she had never seen. Of course, Julian matched them well enough, from what she had witnessed of his skill, but the other dancers in her class? People from Edge? None of them even came close to the natives of Costa del Sol.

Tifa found she could not even summon the courage to go out on the dance floor herself. No, these people intimidated her too much. She would get asked several times a night, however.

"Excuse me, miss. Would you care for a dance?"

Tifa supposed her tango-style dress confused the patrons of the bar. They wanted her to dance—her long dark hair, coiled onto her head and draped down her neck in thick waves, her sexy shoes, and her deep red dress with a sea of ruffles probably gave off the impression that she had come to the bar in order to dance. However, she felt too shy—what if she made a fool of herself in front of these almost-professionals?

But Yuffie _had_ said she needed to relax and unwind. Maybe dancing would clear her mind of Cloud.

"All right," she smiled, dazzling in the low-lit atmosphere. He grinned back at her, face flushed, looking young and energetic with a mop of red hair that reminded her slightly of Reno. The lack of mischief in his honest brown eyes, however, definitely did not draw comparisons to the cat-like ex-Turk.

She and her partner, who introduced himself as Leif, assumed the position on the middle of the dance floor. He whirled her into a spin at the first sound of music, and she took it smoothly, her dress flaring around her knees and calves. Tifa had the sense that every eye in the bar had pinned her to the center of the room the first time she moved. Indeed, many of the customers were now watching intently.

Leif was no Julian, but he held his own rather well. Some of his steps were clumsy, and at times his posture slipped, but Tifa could nudge him subtly into the correct direction or straightness with an easy response and a smile from him. When the song came to an abrupt close and they struck a final pose, he beamed from above her, his smile enchanting and infectious.

Tifa felt something within her loosen then, and decided she should do what she had felt like all along—dance.

Thus began her string of suitors and dance partners. Through the following night, Tifa fended off lecherous pursuers and accepted smooth dance proposals from amateurs and professionals alike. All wanted to dance with the lovely, dark-eyed beauty in the red dress.

None affected her so much as Leif, though.

On her third night in Costa del Sol, she found herself once again on the dance floor with Lief as they stepped a slow, less-intense version of the adrenaline-high tangos she had danced earlier in the night. Sweat gleamed on her skin, and he had taken notice and invited her to dance with him to the lowered tempo of the next song.

After a few moments of silence, he looked down at her. He was tall, a few inches higher than Tifa even when she strapped on heels. "Miss Lockhart," he addressed her in a low voice.

"Yes, Lief? I told you last night you can call me Tifa," she said.

"Well," he said. "I don't want to alarm you, but that man that just came in is staring at you. Not that half the bar doesn't stare at you when you walk into a room," he mused, "but this man seems to recognize you."

Her eyes snapped to the entrance where a familiar face watched her. She looked away hurriedly, breaking their locked stare.

"I thought my sudden departure would have made it clear I didn't want him to come after me," she said, voice soft and heavy.

Leif's hands tightened a tad on her body. She felt it with a fighter's awareness. "Are you in any danger, Miss L—Tifa?"

Her smile looked bitter. "No. No, I'm not."

After a short pause, he asked, "Who is he?"

"He's my... he's... well."

"Ah," he said, voice knowing. "Is he the reason you're so sad?"

She frowned. Sad? Angry, yes. Sad? … Also yes.

"Yes."

"Would you like to speak to him, or should I send him away?"

"I should... I should talk to him."

He stared at her, his eyes intense. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, not sounding sure at all.

When the waltz ended, Leif bowed to her, very old-fashioned. She wondered where he had come from, what sort of family had raised him to be so formal and polite. She smiled at him.

He smiled in return. "Tifa, when you leave here, would it be all right if I visited you sometime?"

"I'd like that," she said. "I'd like that very much."

"Good," he said. "Because if this guy screws up, I'll be waiting." He nodded to Cloud. Her mouth dropped open, shocked. Leif chuckled. "Go on. I'll look you up later."

"Thank you, Leif. For everything."

"Anything for you, lovely Tifa." With a flourish of his ruffled sleeves, he spun on his heel and was off, prepared to ask another young woman for a dance.

Tifa swallowed thickly and squared her shoulders, striding toward Cloud.

"What's _wrong _with you?" The words leapt from her lips with venom, and surprise welled up in her at her own vitriol.

"Tifa, I—"

"_No_, Cloud. I don't want to see you. I thought I made that very clear."

His mouth twisted, and without another word, he grabbed her roughly by her upper arm and almost dragged her onto the dance floor. She was so shocked her mouth dropped open, and she couldn't react, letting him lead her without verbal complaint.

When the first notes of the next song struck up, however, and he tried to get her into the starting position of a tango, she wrenched herself out of his grasp, reared back, and tried to punch him. He stepped backward, out of the way, and she lunged.

Angrily, she grabbed him by the collar, and barely registered when his eyes met hers and he began a backward crawl. She stepped back with him, intending to clock him again for touching her like that without her permission. What she did not initially realize was that a traditional tango prowl had begun.

Cloud smirked, then placed his right hand around her back and reached for her left. She slapped them away, attempting to grab for his throat to strangle him. Tifa could not remember the last time she'd been so mad. At Sephiroth, maybe? No, this was worse. This was someone she trusted, someone who was supposed to be her best friend, and he wasn't _taking the hint_.

"Cloud," she growled.

"Tifa," he said simply, without anger, without fear, without regret. And he grabbed her and spun her outward from him, one hand holding hers. She went with it—it was either go with it or fall flat on her ass in front of everyone.

Unable to do anything but comply with the iron grip of his hands, Tifa danced with him, in the most reluctant fashion possible.

Several times she attempted to kick his legs out from under him, but he dodged that with ease and would spin her into his body or dip her backwards with a flourish to cover the movement. Her shoulders were tense, but they stiffened even more when he dipped her and ran his free hand up her side with a burning intensity on his face.

Tifa tensed with every touch of Cloud's hands, until finally, she simply could not take it anymore. She wriggled free of his grasp at the end of the song, unable to complete the dance.

She stood there, panting, hands flexing, staring at him with fury written in every angle of her face, every movement of her body. Cloud breathed heavily, his eyes locked on her.

"Give me another chance, Tifa," he pleaded.

"Why should I?" she said, horrified to feel tears pooling in her eyes.

"Because," he said, "I hurt you, _again_. And—I..." He threaded his hands into his hair, knuckles bunching and whitening as he stared at some point beyond her shoulder.

"Cloud..." she whispered.

His gaze snapped back to her, eyes luminous and deep in the dimness. "I'm sorry doesn't seem like enough. Not for you." He paused, almost out of breath after the fervent words. "But right now, it's all I have. I'm sorry."

Cloud took two steps forward, and she held her arms out just enough. He gathered her to him.

"Do you," he said, hesitant, "want to go somewhere more private?"

She nodded into his shirt, into the familiarity of his body. Cloud took Tifa by the hand and led her into the sultry del Sol night.


End file.
